| 529 | 530 | 531 | 532 | 533 |
| 1 | 198 | 396 | 594 | 792 |
|
After dinner, Mr Bob Sawyer ordered in the largest mortar in the shop,
and proceeded to brew a reeking jorum of rum-punch therein, stirring
up and amalgamating the materials with a pestle in a very creditable
and apothecary-like manner. Mr Sawyer, being a bachelor, had only
one tumbler in the house, which was assigned to Mr Winkle as a
compliment to the visitor, Mr Ben Allen being accommodated with a
funnel with a cork in the narrow end, and Bob Sawyer contented
himself with one of those wide-lipped crystal vessels inscribed with a
variety of cabalistic characters, in which chemists are wont to
measure out their liquid drugs in compounding prescriptions. These
preliminaries adjusted, the punch was tasted, and pronounced
excellent; and it having been arranged that Bob Sawyer and Ben Allen
should be considered at liberty to fill twice to Mr Winkle's once, they
started fair, with great satisfaction and good-fellowship.
There was no singing, because Mr Bob Sawyer said it wouldn't look
professional; but to make amends for this deprivation there was so
much talking and laughing that it might have been heard, and very
likely was, at the end of the street. Which conversation materially
lightened the hours and improved the mind of Mr Bob Sawyer's boy,
who, instead of devoting the evening to his ordinary occupation of
writing his name on the counter, and rubbing it out again, peeped
through the glass door, and thus listened and looked on at the same
time.
The mirth of Mr Bob Sawyer was rapidly ripening into the furious, Mr
Ben Allen was fast relapsing into the sentimental, and the punch had
well-nigh disappeared altogether, when the boy hastily running in,
announced that a young woman had just come over, to say that
Sawyer late Nockemorf was wanted directly, a couple of streets off.
This broke up the party. Mr Bob Sawyer, understanding the message,
after some twenty repetitions, tied a wet cloth round his head to sober
himself, and, having partially succeeded, put on his green spectacles
and issued forth. Resisting all entreaties to stay till he came back, and
finding it quite impossible to engage Mr Ben Allen in any intelligible
conversation on the subject nearest his heart, or indeed on any other,
Mr Winkle took his departure, and returned to the Bush.
The anxiety of his mind, and the numerous meditations which
Arabella had awakened, prevented his share of the mortar of punch
producing that effect upon him which it would have had under other
circumstances. So, after taking a glass of soda-water and brandy at
the bar, he turned into the coffee-room, dispirited rather than elevated
by the occurrences of the evening. Sitting in front of the fire, with his
back towards him, was a tallish gentleman in a greatcoat: the only
other occupant of the room. It was rather a cool evening for the season
of the year, and the gentleman drew his chair aside to afford the new-
comer a sight of the fire. What were Mr Winkle's feelings when, in
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